Windsor – The Corvus Diaries

“Under the Tories, a sewer of dirty Russian money has been allowed to flow under London for years.” (Ian Blackford)

Open and Shut

The howling wind waking me repeatedly in the early hours Monday, I dropped off again until late. After brekkie, I expunged a nasty lump of debris festooning the hearth, did small chores and sparked the laptop up only for the dam thing to shut down! I fumed at the delay until I could post blogs; the journal took until afternoon. Phil offered to dispose of rubbish but as he groaned at a wind-felled trellis, I went to help and retrieved the bin lid from the bottom of the steps before going to the co-op. At the kiosk, I waited impatiently for an elderly woman to pack her bag. My mate laughed when I threw my stuff back in the wheeled basket. I said it was much easier to sort afterwards and allowed someone else access to the till. Was that a bit passive-aggressive? Exhausted by a whirlwind of tasks, I flopped on the sofa then on the bed.

Off last week due to hilariously falling off his penny farthing, Jeremy Vine still sported a black eye. Marina Purkiss argued with James Gammon over Brexit and orders to return to offices saying it only profited property magnates. And coffee shops! The queen had covid. Suffering ‘minor cold symptoms’, she isolated at Windsor and continued ‘light duties’. Undeterred by the news, Boris told MPs it was time to ‘live with covid’ and treat it like ‘flu. Mandated self-isolation of the infected would end Thursday in England along with payments, obligations to tell employers, and contact-tracing. Changes to SSP and ESA would end 24^th March. Mass free testing to be scaled back from 1^st April, except for the vulnerable, they’d also get another booster in spring. Referring to a funding disagreement between The Goblin and Rishi Rich leading to a delayed cabinet meeting, Keir lambasted ‘more chaos and disarray’: “he thinks living with covid means ignoring it…If you’re 2-1 up with 10 minutes to go, you don’t sub off one of your best defenders.” Ian Blackford railed it was ‘bereft of science’. On Boris asking people to exercise personal responsibility and still isolate for 5 days, Wes Streeting chuckled: “give me a break!” Witless and Vallance used a press conference to warn coronavirus wasn’t over but Boris denied a division. Linda Bauld said while hospitalisations and deaths were down, community infection remained high, so it wasn’t: ‘a free ticket to not worry at all’. On Newsnight, Prof. Openshaw counselled ‘don’t throw your mask away’ and agreed with Witless on caution, saying infection surveys were vital early warning systems of new variants which might be more dangerous.

In the wake of Storm Franklin, floodwater inundated Tadcaster streets and Doncaster rail station, destroyed defences under construction on the River Aire and cracked a bridge in Boston Spa meaning a 7 mile trip to get across town. Most providers advising against travel, all Northern trains were suspended. Saying last week names couldn’t be released, PCs Jonathan Cobban and William Neville and ex-cop Joel Borders were unveiled as the 3 Met staff who’d shared nasty WhatsApp chat with Wayne Couzens.

Opening the curtains Tuesday, the pole promptly fell on my head. Yelling in shock, I sat down with water until a hot flush passed. Trains still a mess and 80 flood warnings in place, I postponed a planned trip to Manchester, sent a submission to Valley Lifeⁱ, and posted the date 22.02.22. on Facebook. Walking Friend added 22.02.2022. How did I miss the palindrome? Resuming the kitchen spring clean, I discovered a pile of jars clarted in cobwebs and freaked out when a spider skin fell on my hand. Unable to rest on the bed as Phil fixed the curtain pole, I relaxed on the sofa with a book when he declared he was going on a quest for marge. “Okay, but leave me in peace!” I lay down for breathing exercises. He apologised for interrupting m again on his return but I’d given up by then. Though sunny during a changeable day, it was too cold to properly relax. And I appreciated that he’d rang his Leeds mate while out so her dulcet tones didn’t disturb me further! As he’d taken both bedroom curtains down, I put them in the wash and used the spares.

The backlash against the ‘living with covid’ plan continued. Schools predicted more cases and further classroom disruption, devolved administrations lambasted the end of financial support, and the BMA complained of failure ‘to protect those at highest risk’. Drugs lauded as the future for tackling outbreaks, Adam Finn thought annual jabs alongside flu likely. Calling ending routine testing in England ‘inexcusable negligence’, Sturgeon announced it would stay in Scotland – albeit scaled down. The Scottish covid pass would be scrapped 28^th Feb. followed by other measures 21^st March.

Lethargic on Wednesday, I slowly opened curtains to a watery sun. Phil made porridge to take off the morning’s chill. After cleaning a bitty living room, I saw the laptop had updated and shutdown overnight and waited impatiently to be able to type. I set the DVR to record PMQs and went out, just as the weather turned showery. Spotting Welsh Friends’ step-daughter pushing a pram, I introduced myself at long last to be acquainted with the baby. Greeting her partner on the next street down, I was unsure if he recognised me. At the far end of town, I got nowt in the crap Boots. Signs unsurprisingly revealed a shutdown. More luck in the charity shops, I spent ages rifling through a box of old postcards. Lunchtime by then, I hurried along the riverside to the other Boots which also looked about to close due to a lack of stock during reorganisation. Having propped up the felled trellis on the way out and on the way back, I became exacerbated. The woman next door sympathised. Trying to affix it later, Phil gave up in the stiff wind.

The recording of PMQs shocking quality, at least I could fast-forward boring bits. Focussed on sanctions against Russia, Keir asked why Boris didn’t immediately impose the full package, seeing as there’d already been an invasion. The Bumbler responded it was vital that after the first barrage, they worked in lockstep with allies to squeeze Vlad, sanctions would be escalated, and he was grateful for the opposition’s support thus far. On defeating the campaign of lies and misinformation, he said Dreadful Doris had asked Ofcom to review RT licences but the decision was up to them. Sturgeon led calls for Alex Salmon to quit his show on the Russian channel. As Boris reverted to incomprehensible gibberish, Keir pointed out political donations were allowed from anywhere to which Boris wittered about labour links to the Chinese communist party. Refusing to be deflected, Keir insisted they stood united and not provide ‘homes for their loot’. Ian Blackford added ‘a sewer of dirty Russian money’ flowed under London. $20.8 billion amounted to corruption on an industrial scale, oligarchs with golden handshakes were welcomed and dosh had ‘found its way into tory coffers’. A block to stronger sanctions, he asked Boris if he’d finally commit to giving it up? Caroline Lucas put in that as foreign sec, Boris didn’t deny Russian interference in elections and asked why he turned a blind eye to disruption allegations? Margaret Hodge called the sanctions response a mess. Adamant they’d impact the entire regime, Boris said there’d be a major move to stop their dollars coming into London. On other issues, Bradford MP Imran Hussain’s question on promoting an alleged perpetrator of Islamophobia was ruled inappropriate, Ian Byrne got the party line on tackling food poverty, and queries on support for Liberty Steel, private carers and the vulnerable amid the lifting of covid restrictions, were answered with drivelling platitudes. Asked on Daily Politics if 14 labour MPs who thought NATO the aggressor should be expelled, Luke Pollard replied they were ‘a broad church’ but committed to NATO.

Ignoring feeble knocks during siesta time, Phil answered to accept a parcel for next door. I lay awhile with my eyes shut, stitched a hole in the bedspread, and fumed at unwashed pots. Apparently distracted by putting tools away, Phil struggled to say what he meant. “Mixing your words and your tasks! There’s no hope!” I laughed.

£6.1 billion public debt interest in January, the PAC report revealed poor record-keeping and lack of transparency led to £15 billion lost in covid error and fraud. In a rare fit of praise later in the week, they called the vaccine roll-out a ‘real success’ and NAO said the £5.6 billion was ‘money well spent.’ In response to a letter from MET deputy commissioner Stephen House, the London mayor’s office denied lack of due process in getting rid of Dick. Flooding still affected areas of Worcestershire and Shropshire near the River Severn. With Ironbridge underwater, households evacuated and levels peaking in Bewdley, communities were urged to stay vigilant and there were clamours for permanent solutions. As Russia celebrated Day of the Fatherland in Rostov on Don (down the road from Sheffield!) Ukraine got more weapons and protections against cyber-attacks were stepped up. Ben Wally saying he’d gone ‘full Tonto’, Vlad stuck to his guns, telling Kyiv the only way out was to demilitarise and abandon their NATO ambitions.

A Call to Arms

Thursday, Phil changed the bedding while I bathed. He then lay abed with cushions and blankets askew. Irked, I chased him off. Putting sheets in the machine, I searched for a butterfly back from an earring that fell out in the bath and found a hairgrip. More fits ensued at stuff dangerously stacked in cupboards and the coal-hole. Ocado carrier bags trapped beneath the Christmas tree stand, freeing them was hampered by an ancient bulb taking several minutes to light up. We awaited the Ocado delivery and looked at changing weather through the window. There was a lot of it! Hail overnight, we got sleet, then sun, more hail and squally mixed hail/sleet showers. Renewed yellow warnings of wind, snow and lightning for Scotland and Northern Ireland, there was no thundersnow and reports disagreed on if it was Storm Gladys. I reviewed the proof from Valley Life and worked on the journal. The bedroom curtains the wrong way round, lack of overlap left a gap in the middle. Phil helped remedy the issue and affixed the decorative knob. Finishing the hoovering after lunch, I kept finding more dross, got tired, and rested. Cooking dinner, the oven door handle door came loose. Fed up with things going wrong in the stupid weather, we left more DIY for another day.

An Ipsos poll found people divided on whether it was the right time to relax restrictions but 61% didn’t support the decision to end free testing. Home Office figures showed a record 28,526 people crossed the English Channel in dinghies during 2021. Still ill with covid, the queen postponed virtual audiences. Would she make it to her jubilee party? Meanwhile, Prince Willy secretly visited MI6. Hours later, Vlad released a rambling pre-recorded statement. Claiming he aimed to stop the genocide of innocent people by Nazis, he sent troops over Ukrainian borders at 3.00 a.m. local time. As airbases were attacked, Ukraine said they shot 5 planes down, enlisted reservists into the regular army, and declared martial law encouraging citizens to take up arms and make Molotov cocktails. Sirens blasting, an exodus of Kyiv began. Woken in the night, Boris spoke to Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky, convened cobra and addressed the nation, saying they’d agreed a ‘massive package’ of sanctions with allies to ‘hobble the Russian economy’. No embargo yet on gas or Swift, money still flowed into Kremlin coffers. UN security council pleas to stop the aggression fell on deaf ears. No wonder seeing as it was chaired by a Ruskie. After summits involving the UK, US , EU and G7, Boris made a statement to the commons, uncommonly united in condemning the imperialist. RAF typhoons patrolled Polish and Romanian borders, Grant Shats instructed CAA to ensure airlines avoided Ukraine airspace, Aeroflot UK landings were banned, stock markets fell and oil prices rocketed. Vlad insisted they only targeted military assets but explosions were heard in Kyiv, Odesa and Kharkiv, where an apartment block was bombed and they took Chernobyl causing much alarm. Russian opponents of the aggression bravely held demos, 1,7000 were arrested and 150 officials wrote an open letter condemning the ‘atrocity’. Extensive coverage of the now real invasion made me depressed and fretful, leading to mediocre sleep.

The Darkest Hour

Clumpy noises annoyingly roused me Friday morning, created by a fat truck with flashing yellow lights crawling up the hillside. Making use of the forced early start, I took a rare trip to the co-op before coffee. Lovely and sunny out after the mixed weather, I greeted the Turkish barber cleaning his windows and wished I could get out before noon more often. Shopping Incident-free, bacon shelves were still bare. Coming back, I heard young mum in the community garden ask the toddler if he wanted to take something to the new house. “Have you got a new house?” Providing details she added: “Moving’s a nightmare with a toddler.” “I bet. He’ll be into everything now!” I sorted groceries, collapsed on the sofa with coffee, discussed nasty Russians with Phil and got scared at the very idea of going for a drink in case they put Novichok in my beer.

After a hasty lunch, I headed to town, dumped a bag of crap at the animal charity shop and ripped the box reaching up for cough drops in the sweet shop. He contritely said he should move it lower down. “As long as you don’t charge me for damage.” “Good idea!” he quipped. Trying both butchers, the first was temporarily shut and the second had no bacon. I whizzed round the flea market to banter and barter with dealers then returned to the first butchers for the elusive bacon. He teased he’d been stockpiling it. An awful pirate busker in the square, I retreated to the bridge for some quiet but it was insanely busy with traffic and pedestrians. I met The Researcher as arranged and suggested the town hall. A dementia and covid project display by a rival university provided food for thought and an interesting take on dark times. She kindly bought us coffee and cake In the café where I grabbed a scarce table. The terrace unusable due to the crappiest ice rink in the world, signs declared it open from 23^rd but they were still setting up! We discussed ideas for showcasing her project, further contributions to her blog and my plans to pause Corvus Diaries. War dominating the news, she was terrified and said it was the third day in her life she’d watched TV all day. The other two being the death of Diana and 9/11, I felt old! For our generation, it evoked the constant fear of nuclear war but I believed there was some hope: it might be the end of Vlad, ordinary Russians opposed invading their neighbours and mutiny was possible. Sharing personal stuff, we discovered a similar age gap between our parents and mutual publishing ambitions. Chairs being put atop tables signified closing time. A member of staff brought a doggy bag so I could take home the uneaten half of the gigantic cake slice. “That’s the first time I’ve been chucked out of the town hall!” We browsed the free library and laughed over West Country accents and a broken door before saying our goodbyes.

In plans for HE, DoE lowered the student loans threshold and extended the payment period so it’d be 40 years until debts were written off and graduates would pay more, for longer. A consultation on admission thresholds proposed minimum English & maths grades to access loans which government said would stop students enrolling on poor courses while critics said it disproportionately affected poor kids. Believing HE students should have a decent level of literacy, I wondered at the timing after effectively 2 years of on-off schooling during the pandemic.

Fierce fighting across Ukraine, Russian ‘operatives’ were in Kyiv by dawn and tanks in the northern suburb of Obolon. While NATO presence beefed up in Eastern Europe, EC foreign policy chief Josep Borrell intoned it was the darkest hour since WW2, the US and EU imposed more sanctions but still prevaricated over the toughest ones. Was it time for the iron curtain to be redrawn? Urging the Ukrainian military to surrender, Vlad said “we would find it easier to agree with you than with that gang of drug addicts and neo-Nazis who have holed up in Kyiv.” Jewish ex-comic turned president Vlod angrily dismissed the claims, said he was top of the Russian hit list and offered to negotiate on NATO ambitions. Serge said it was too late for that. A woman gave a Russian soldier sunflower seeds to put in his pocket so blooms would grow when he fell dead on her homeland soil, and crowds descended on rail stations aiming for Poland and Rumania. UEFA moved the champion’s league final from St. Petersburg to Paris and F1 cancelled the Sochi Grand Prix.

Metro featured an ace photo of a WW2 mural discovered renovating a house in Bispham. I suggested Phil ask to see it during an upcoming trip (see above).

Getting pizza from the freezer for dinner, I realised I’d disposed of cooking instructions. Phil said he’d come up with a mnemonic to remember timings but had forgotten it! Drinking too much wine, I blamed the added stress of war in our time. Phil interrupting film-viewing with rhetorical advice for Uncle Joe didn’t help!

After a crap night, Shed Boy noisily lobbed a van-load of trash in a skip early Saturday. I gave up trying to lie in and switched the telly on to discover Kyiv under attack from airstrikes, heavy gunfire and rockets. Reports of higher than expected Russian casualties, Ukrainian equipment was badly hit. 20,000 refugees arrived in Poland. Remaining citizens holed up in deep underground stations during the 13-hour curfew. Speaking from uninvaded streets, plucky Vlod scotched rumours of surrender. Demos took place across the UK. All very depressing, I avoided news for the rest of the day.

Making brekkie, my eyes went funny. Struggling to discern numbers on the kettle and microwave, my vision soon adjusted. Another symptom of excess, Phil explained wine over-relaxed the cells and recommended eye exercise. We discussed how unlike his condition, mine was temporary but it made me empathise and appreciate how quickly our brains adapted to make sense of the world. The SD card being arsy, I rescued a few photos and re-formatted it, worked on the journal, and pottered. Phil cut and dyed my hair. Really cold in the South Pole, I got scared of hypothermia. He also fixed the oven door, cleaned the bathroom and went to the shop, finding the twilight streets littered with drunks, just like the old days! Evening viewing included the third Oscar-nominated Netflix film so far this year. Phil often inventing modern operas, I said he should be inspired by Tick, Tick, Boom: “You literally CAN write a song about anything!”

Waking early Sunday with familiar symptoms, I sucked a pastille, slept fitfully ‘til 9, took Echinacea, wobbled down for a cuppa and got riled at a messy kitchen. Sulking on the bed, I told Phil I wasn’t well. “Is it the beer?” “1½ pints? Don’t be daft. It’s the usual sinus lark, probably due to sitting in a freezing kitchen with wet hair.” After his cooked brekkie, I considered going back to bed but stayed in the living room. Very sunny and warm despite early frost, I’d hoped to go for a walk. Obviously not up to it, I was fed up being ill again. I worked on the journal, finished a secret card and wrote a haigaⁱⁱ based on a photo from the previous weekend. Phil repaired a camera and went to the shop for more veg to accompany his austerity roast. Helping with prep, it took 40 minutes to peel and cube a bargainous butternut squash. It felt like a workout! I slumped back on the sofa and left him to it, getting impatient when it wasn’t ready at the appointed time. Finding the gravy tasteless, he insisted he’d used tons of mustard. I railed at undercooked parsnips then realised it was because of overfilling the oven with squash.

On Sunday Morning, ambassador to the UK Vadym Prystaiko talked of an international legion of fighters, and likened the invasion to 1918 when unable to take Kyiv, Bolsheviks took the second city Kharkiv, declared it the new capital then moved on Kyiv. Unconvinced the ‘special operation’ only took place in Donbas, 60% of Russians polled, opposed it and mums worried for their young conscript sons, forced to sign contracts so they could fight. With global protests, 4,000 Russians were reportedly detained for partaking and 1 million signed an anti-war petition. During the weekend curfew, Ex-boxing Kyiv mayor Vitali Klitschko said anyone outside was a saboteur. BP exited Rosneft while the EU shipped more weapons to The Ukraine, eased asylum processes, totally banned Russian planes from their airspace and froze them out of money markets. Unable to access overseas reserves, the rouble fell by 1/3^rd, leading to bank runs, and an interest rate hike to stop the currency collapsing. Cyber-attacks hit Ukrainian embassies and Russian media. Trussed-up Liz said the economic crime bill would stop the money flow into the UK and stupidly, that those heeding the call to arms had her support. Illegal (when it suited them), Ben Wally later contradicted her. A sombre day for football, Abramovich stepped back from Chelsea and Bielsa was sacked, ending an era at Leeds United.

Head drooping, I was determined to prevent debilitation, took a loaded hot lemon drink to bed and quaffed cough mixture. Drifting off, I thought I was asleep but I’d lain in a stupor, uncertain if it was for minutes or hours. Fever breaking, I fell in and out of consciousness during a weird night. Did I have too many drugs?

Only marginally better Monday, Phil added cinnamon to the porridge. I couldn’t taste it but the soft consistency eased my throat. After bathing, I prevaricated about staying abed, decided to go downstairs, got annoyed at an overfull draining board and retreated to the sofa to post the haiga and work on the journal. In the afternoon, I gathered recycling which Phil took out in the nasty rain, even though he was falling asleep, did some secret stuff and had a siesta. I didn’t rest but finished a book. Leftover roast for dinner, I put the anaemic veg back in the oven and he added more mustard to the gravy which I could actually taste. I took this as a sign of improvement but to be safe, I went up early with hot lemon, and fell asleep quickly for a blessedly decent night.

As ex-boxer Vitali ended the Kyiv curfew, besieged citizens queued for food. 500,000 Ukrainians fled and Nasty Patel caused confusion over visas and leave to remain for relatives of UK settlers. Russian tanks approached from the north, east and south towards Mariupol. Cluster bombs allegedly used on Kharkiv, the UN decried war crimes. Vlad sent his culture adviser to negotiate with the Ukrainian defence minister in an old palace in Gomel on the Belarus border, predictably achieving nothing. Belarus forces set to join the fighting, veteran Stepanovych urged mutiny. Russia was banned from international football and FIFA cut ties with Gazprom, as did petrol giant Shell along with links to Nord Stream 2. Escalating the conflict, a beleaguered Vlad linked increased sanctions to his decision to put nuclear forces on high alert, citing ‘aggressive statements’ by NATO. Wally dismissed the threat as ‘battle rhetoric’. Commentators suggested 2 years in a bunker with long-covid, brain fog and paranoia, turned Vlad mad. Others thought that was what he wanted us to think. When would people learn? Megalomaniacs always ended up with hubris syndrome!

On the pandemic front, Omicron ‘lost its grip’, carpark Nightingale facilities were dismantled and more trains ran but would cost more from 1^st March. Masks no longer mandatory in many indoor Welsh spaces, they remained mandatory for public transport, retail and healthcare settings. The next review was due 4^th March. Spy tech getting ‘out of control’ during lockdowns, the TUC wanted the employment bill to ensure union consultation and worker protection from intrusive AI. Reported rapes and sexual assaults up significantly since Sarah Everard’s murder, the ONS thought it was due to increased publicity and easing of restrictions but the number of girls hiding ‘deep distress’ rose.

Coronavirus taking a back seat with bigger things going on in the world, Corvus Diaries was turning into The War Diaries. I decided to take a break.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back!